The Misadventures of Morgan WraithWind
by Evil Chocolate of Doom
Summary: A series of lazy drabbles about the stupid ways I keep dying. May end up with a plot, maybe not. Because Skyrim ate my life.
1. Chapter 1

_Skyrim what have you done to my life?_

_Because I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed I've managed to kill poor Morgan, my war axe weilding Nord with creepy eyes who likes to decapitate people, Cirrus my High Elf who dies more stupidly then Morgan and Baskerville my Dark Elf mistress of fiery explosions and reducing enemies to ash._

_You name a cliff and I bet I've fallen off it and died_

**The Misadventures of Morgan Wraith-Wind**

**Chapter One: Acrobatics**

It had been a busy day for one Morgan Wraith-Wind.

Okay so she may have slipped the border guards, but how could she pay the damn toll when she was flat broke? It didn't matter anyway as she got caught up in some bitch fight between the Imperial Legion and some upset Nords. They were probably violently protesting some stupid tax the empire wanted to inflict on alcohol.

Only fools got between a Nord and their mead.

It all ended up with Morgan getting clubbed over the head, trussed up like a turkey and tossed in a cart with three other malcontents.

Of course it turned out to be a bit more serious than that. In the years she'd been away from home, Skyrim had descended into a clusterfuck of epic proportions and it was all coming around to bite her on the arse.

Resting on the headsman's block, the cooling blood the crazy bastard who went before her sticking to her face and neck as the executioner readied his axe. Morgan really couldn't believe her eyes when a big arse dragon decided to join the party.

It was all pretty confusing after that. Morgan ended up ditching that shit shack with some blonde rebel with a pot belly.

After ditching the blonde, her curiosity got the better of her and thus she stumbled across some funky looking stones.

These stones were perched above a river and that water looked damn fun. With a flying leap, Morgan sprung for the water…

…only die from a severed artery in her leg caused by shattered bones as she landed in shallow water.


	2. Chapter 2

_Not quite as funny this time. Guess I'm in a serious mood. Longer though_

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: River Float<strong>

After escaping Helgen and the dragon, Morgan finally staggered into the small mill village of Riverwood around dusk. Recalling the blonde mead rebel having said he had a sister who ran the mill, a grumpy Morgan decided to hit her up for a place to stay the night, and maybe get some directs to a pawn broker or some other sucker to by the various items she had looted from the corpses of anyone unfortunate to die in her general vicinity.

It was to her chagrin that as soon as she had located the sister, Gertie or Gabby or something, that she was sent off to warn the local Jarl that the dragon was still on the loose in the area.

Morgan didn't quite agree with the whole idea, as Helgen proved she didn't get along with authority figures, but could understand where the woman was coming from, as having seen the dragon up close and personal, it was lucky her pants weren't soiled.

The sun had risen and Morgan unloaded any unwanted junk on the unfortunate shopkeeper, ignoring his moans about thieves and claws.

A glance at her map showed her that the river lead right down to Whitehall. The river intrigued Morgan. Back in Cyrodill you could sit in the middle of a river and go nowhere. It was a different story in Skyrim apparently.

It was with no small amount of glee that Morgan purchased several bottles of Alto Wine and proceeded to jump into the fast running water.

As the current swept her along and she made several half-hearted swipes at the salmon swimming past Morgan couldn't help but marvel at the joy of floating down river, half sloshed dressed in full armour.

Her pulse picked up along with the current and her ears caught the roar of an upcoming waterfall. It wasn't the first tumble of water she'd come across in her lazy drift and while she'd been nervous at first, the bottles of wine she'd consumed had helped greatly in keeping her relaxed.

So relaxed that as she was swept over the sudden drop she let out a whoop…

…just before every bone in her body was shattered as she impacted on the sharp rocks that made up the base of the waterfall and her bloodied corpse flopped back into the deep water were it continued to drift down stream and invariably traumatized some young child.

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><p><em>My darling little brother (ha ha) went off to further education. He's come back an alcoholic (at least I got a job first, with a boss who doesn't mind me rocking up to work with a hangover and one time still drunk from the bender the night before). One of the things his mates would get up to is: find a flotation device, buy a goon bag (cheep wine), go upstream and float back into town while sucking on the bag.<em>


End file.
